


Hard Work (Given the Value of Hard)

by AceAsADHD



Category: Thunderbirds
Genre: ADD characteristic, Gen, Proud Grandma, Snapshots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-08
Updated: 2017-10-08
Packaged: 2019-01-10 15:30:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12302085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AceAsADHD/pseuds/AceAsADHD
Summary: His brothers all set such high standards that no one seemed to notice that it was sometimes hard work for Gordon to reach bare minimum.





	Hard Work (Given the Value of Hard)

When Gordon heard the door click open he jumped up and ran to greet the new arrival, “Mummy, mum, look I painted you a painting.”

Gordon held up the paper in his hands; it was still dipping slightly with paint that hadn’t quite dried. He was proud of it because he used all the colours they had. Surely that meant it could go on the fridge, even for a little while.

“Oh Gordon, it's lovely,” Mum crouched down to take a look at it, “but I think you have more paint on you than on the paper.”

Gordon looked at the front of the paper then down at himself trying to compare the amounts of paint on both. He took in all the colours and splashes on his mess clothes then looked back at his mum, “um oops?”

Mum laughed and carefully took the painting from Gordon, “how about I hang this up, and we get you cleaned up?”

“Can it go on the fridge?” Gordon jumped excitingly, “Please, Please, Please?”

Mum smiled, “If you go upstairs and get ready for a bath, I’ll stick it to the fridge.”

“Yes!” Gordon squealed as he whipped off his shirt there and then before running up the stairs. A picture on the fridge and a bath, this was the best day ever.

~~~ 

“Um, Gordon?” Jeff Tracy surveyed the scene before him. A light coat of white powder covered the normally stainless steel kitchen, and also his fourth son.

“Surprise dad,” Gordon cheerfully held out a cake covered in yellow icing and two well worn birthday candles. It didn’t look as bad as the state of the kitchen suggested, “I baked you a cake for your birthday.”

“It looks good enough to eat,” it was a high compliment in the Tracy household. He took the plate from Gordon and placed it on a cleaner corner, “but you got flour all over you, and the kitchen.”

Gordon looked around sheepishly, “I had a slight problem with the mixer.”

Slight was putting it mildly, “well, I'm going to get changed. How about you start cleaning up and once you’ve done, we can eat some cake.” 

“Sweet,” Gordon grabbed a cloth from the sink and paused to shake the flour and icing sugar out of his hair. Jeff just chuckled as he made his way upstairs to get changed.

~~~

If Gordon could live in the pool, he would. He never felt as peaceful as when he was gliding through the water.

One more lap? When his teammates were groaning Gordon was already halfway through it. He was always the first one in and last one out.

The coach said if he kept up this kind of dedication Gordon could aim for the Olympics. When all of his brothers were getting grades good enough to get them into any college or university they wanted, Gordon's were lacking. He never expected swimming could get him a sports scholarship to a decent college.

It propelled Gordon to work on his schoolwork, even the boring stuff. It gave him the motivation to look at W.A.S.P. applications. If movement was Gordon’s key to learning, then you couldn't get more movement than the military forces.

Long after school, the Olympics and W.A.S.P. Gordon never felt more at home than gliding through the water.

~~~

“Brake!”

Gordon slammed on the brake which jerked him forward. He didn’t think he had been going too fast, but Parker kept yelling at him.

“Master Gordon,” Parker, who was teaching him to drive, sighed exasperatedly, “there's no need to be so heavy footed.”

“But you said brake, so I braked,” Gordon whined. 

“Gentle taps on the brakes,” Parker exclaimed, “For a young man who hates rollercoasters your fast to take off too. Must I remind you there's a speed limit inside the gates.”

Gordon slumped in his seat; this was getting annoying. Parker had criticisms for everything Gordon did. They were both thankful that F.A.B.1 was built to last and could withstand anything Gordon could throw at it.

“Okay,” Parker sat back in his seat, “let’s try that again.”

Gordon sat up and concentrated. He put the car into gear and pressed his foot on the accelerator so they could take off, again.

“Brake!”

~~~

Gordon was checking out the damage done to Thunderbird 4 from his latest mission. An unexpected boulder had come loose, and he hadn’t moved out of the way fast enough, so it dented the hull near the back. It hadn’t been life-threatening, so Gordon had ignored it until now.

After reviewing what work needed to be done he stretching his back, and started towards the stairs up to the house.

“And where do you think you’re going?”

Gordon turned to see Brains adjusting his glasses and M.A.X behind him, “Oh hey Brains. I’m just heading up to get changed.”

“You have work to do,” Brains put his hands on his hips, and M.A.X waved a hammer around.

“Yeah, I know, I’ve got to clean up my mess,” Gordon rolled his eyes, “I’m just going to get changed is all. I’m not hammering in a wetsuit.”

“No, no, no,” Brains waggled a finger at him, “you’ll go upstairs, and then you’ll get distracted, and Virgil and I will end up with all the work.”

“Well,” Brains was not wrong, and Gordon knew it, “Um, send M.A.X with me. I just have to get out of this wetsuit.”

“You should have thought about that before you were so careless.” Brains crossed his arms.

“Careless?” Gordon exclaimed, “how was I supposed to predict that rock slide?”

“The large scrapes on the side of Thunderbird 4 weren't caused by the rocks.”

Oh yeah, those, from when Gordon took a corner a bit too quickly. It flicked off some paint, but Gordon got used to having to touch up Thunderbird 4 after he cleaned. He slumped in a silent admission he was defeated.

“Okay Brains,” Gordon walked back towards the craft, “let's get this over and done with.”

“That's the spirit,” Brains patted his back, “let this be a lesson in taking care of your things better. But since you insist, I think I have some spare clothes you can borrow.”

M.A.X pulled out what looked like Brains’ IR uniform.

“Gee,” Gordon grimaced but unfortunately it was still better than his wetsuit, “Thanks, Brains.”

~~~

Gordon inspected the mess he had made on Thunderbird 4 once more. The glue had stuck in multiple places, so Gordon was making a list of the work he needed to do. Five major spots needed chipping, grinding back and repainting.

So Gordon figures if he did that routine five times over, instead of one at a time, he would be more likely to finish the job. Especially since everyone else had other things to do and no one would be here to keep him on track.

He picked the largest size blob to start and got to work, singing along with his radio. After clearing the glue and grinding back the metal, he got to work painting his yellow submarine.

“Gordon?”

He turned to wave at Grandma who was walking over, “Hey Grandma. What's up?”

Grandma smiled at him, “are you getting any paint on your sub?”

“Er,” Gordon pulled his shirt out to see all the yellow splashes, “a little bit.”

Gordon jumped off the top of Thunderbird 4 to get closer to Grandma and inspect how much he had done. It might not look like much from an outsider's perspective, but Gordon was proud of how much he was able to accomplish without stopping.

“Wouldn't it be easier to paint the whole of Thunderbird 4 afterwards?” Grandma asked, “it would save you looking like the time you got into Virgil's paints.”

“Which time?” Gordon commented.

“Every time,” Grandma spoke fondly so Gordon didn't feel he was in any trouble, “there was still paint on the carpet no matter how much paper we put down.”

“Oh,” Gordon looked over the other spots he still had to clean, “um, I guess, but I thought, since I was by myself, it would take longer that way.”

Not ready to voice what everyone else knew anyway; he would get distracted halfway through, and someone would either do the work for him or get annoyed at him or most likely both.

“Well,” Grandma squeezed his shoulder, even though that meant she go paint on her hands, “I'm very proud of how much you've gotten done. If you want a break you can come up; dinner is just about ready.”

Gordon puffed up at Grandma’s words; it was rare that anyone was proud of him for doing his work. His brothers all set such high standards that no one seemed to notice that it was sometimes hard work for Gordon to reach bare minimum.

He shivered at the thought of having to eat Grandma’s cooking though.

“Um, I think I'll stay down here,” Gordon said as cheerfully as he could muster and because he couldn't lie well directly to Grandma, he went with the truth, “I'm on a good roll, and I've got some crunch bars. I want to get this finished.”

Grandma grinned, and Gordon couldn't tell if she saw through him or not, “very well, I'll tell the others what a good job you're doing by yourself then.”

Another compliment warmed his chest and put a goofy smile on his face. As Grandma walked away, he couldn't help feeling certain brothers of his would be regretful that they weren't here to help.

**Author's Note:**

> So halfway through I realised I was projecting my ADD onto Gordon and realised that it kinda works.


End file.
